


Au Mieux

by astratastic



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: F/M, Lockwood&Co, Lockwoodandco, modelAU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8731648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astratastic/pseuds/astratastic
Summary: Lucy Carlyle was a member of the Fittes modeling department, sent away to work in the Youth Prodigy department. There she meets Anthony Lockwood and his crew, along with Holly Munro. As the three of them come together, although Lockwood and Lucy especially, their true intentions begin to show. Of why they began modeling. Of who they're doing it for.





	1. Chapter 1

‘You should join the Fittes modeling department, Lucy!’ Was the last piece of advice I would ever take from my sister Mary ever again, as much as I loved her. That was years ago, of course. I had grown to be an invaluable member of their department by the time the news arrived at my quaint office. My expectations were set inexplicably low. Thought I was bound to be fired that day. The doubts I held were to be crushed on that day, though.

  
My laptop shone up at me brightly, A blank slate for my schedule the only thing occupying the screen. The small line blinked in the spot where I should have been typing. But I had nothing to type. “Did I lose my schedule?” I found myself ridiculously asking myself aloud. A part-time model who constantly lost their schedule wasn’t something my peers appreciated much. Especially when she also juggled the paperwork an accountant could take easily. Hey, I wanted money and that’s all they could offer me. Can’t really blame me, can you?  
Modeling was pointless, anyways. I was just an average person with an average appearance in a modeling agency that had some weird surplus of beautiful people about it trying to make a living. Honestly, I was appalled that I wasn’t kicked to the curb on my first day. Constantly working in fear wasn’t healthy. So I took on a larger workload excluded from modeling. Busying myself seemed to help.

  
After practically demolishing my office and finding nothing, I collapsed into my seat with a dead expression. No work? That seemed impossible. I must have misplaced it somewhere. Yes . . . that seemed logical. On the printer in the accountants’ breakroom, maybe? Or in the Models’ breakroom? How about the restroom? They all seemed to make sense. Might as well go check them all, then. Once I had decided on manually searching and or tearing apart the Fittes department. I had contemplating searching the Rottwell department, but they were more likely to silently judge me as I would them. At least this department tried to hide any judgment towards my choice of clothing outside of what I was given.

  
I swung my door open, about to yawn widely. I stopped mid-way to see Mister Jacobs glowering down at me. He would have been horrified had I completely yawned right in his face. “Hi.” I waved, trying to usher past him.  
“Your schedule isn’t missing. It was cleared.” He said gruffly as if reading my mind. I froze, looking at him with a cocked brow, the other furrowed.   
“Pardon me?”  
“Get inside. I’ll explain it to you. Unfortunately.”  
Jacobs still didn’t like me much. Ever since an . . . Incident involving the rest of my- our- sector. It was understandable, but some common courtesy would have been appreciated.

  
The door shut behind him as I sat back in my seat, blinds partially closed. He sat in the chair in front of me. The laptop was closed so I could fold my hands on the desk.  
“Lay it on me.”  
Completely expecting him to say ‘we have to let you go’, I was prepared physically and mentally. His next words had me choking on my own spit.  
“You’re being transferred to the Prodigy Department. Finally.”

  
I knew he was about to say ‘good riddance, too’. If I were in his shoes I would have said that as well. But I had the right to report him to the officials, endangering his position and job.  
“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you.” I laughed.   
“Trust me, I can’t believe it either. But they see something in you. Penelope Fittes signed off on it. Actually, I think she was the one that proposed the transfer.” He seemed sidetracked in his own amazement to notice me abruptly standing from my desk. I was about to march up to the Executive’s office at that instance. “Oh. They want you to head over right now. Said you could pack up your stuff later. Not that you have that much to move.”   
I rolled my eyes once I was fully out of his vision. “Good to know. Now get out of my office, Jacobs.” He gladly obeyed. I could have sworn he was so ecstatic that he would have skipped away.

 

  
The Prodigy Department was specifically created for those that exceeded in what they did or had the potential to become greater, despite your age. Most of the younger models joined. So, being seventeen, I found my joining normal. It was the fact that I was considered a prodigy that disturbed me. I was just normal in my mind, and I knew others shared the same opinion.  
What exactly had Penelope seen in me that piqued her interest? I was dying to know as I wandered aimlessly down the hall. There were many people about, varying in ethnicity, size, and age. I had tried different offices of the department. Six, to be exact. They all told me to try the next kindly. One was a six-year-old boy with freckles. The last one I had tried was at the end of the hall, a plaque simply reading ‘A. Lockwood’. There was a sticky note in quick writing that read ‘&George’. It fell off when I knocked on the door. A long silence on the other side.  
“Do I have to get it?” A voice complained. He sighed dejectedly after a murmured response gave him his answer. The door swung open.  
The man staring at me seemed bored, blue eyes hidden behind glasses, blond hair messy beyond belief.  
“You’re new.” He said it as if it were a fact than a question.  
“Yes.”  
“Don’t know where to go?”  
“Obviously. Why else would I be here?”  
“There’s no director in this department if that’s who you’re looking for. We get some orders every once in a while. So you can just find an empty of-”  
“Bring her in!” A joyful voice chirped from inside, cutting off the boy’s advice. He sighed, stepping out of the way. I entered reluctantly, taking in the room. A broad white room with a large carpet currently decorated with a box of animal crackers, a makeup vanity covered with more makeup than my mind could possibly dream of. There was a desk with a desktop computer to my right at the entrance. A short hallway was located next to a white sofa where a boy was currently lounging, face covered by a magazine. His leg was dangling to the floor, hand on his chest. I assumed he was sleeping. The coffee table was covered in magazines and comic books. There were bookshelves lining the hall, a room to the left hidden from my view. The boy in the hall had long legs covered mostly by a pair of tight sweat pants, a grey T-shirt topping the look off. His eyes were trained on me with curiosity, damp black hair indicating he had recently showered.   
“Hi! I didn’t know we were getting a newcomer so soon. Sorry about George, I think he slept on the wrong side of the bed last night.” He said, heading to my direction. I felt strangely uncomfortable in the fancy room. Especially with the knowledge that I was currently the center of attention.  
“It’s fine, I suppose. I wasn’t really sent here with directions so I was hoping-” I began, cut off by his joyous expression  
“You can join our group.” He proposed quickly with a grin.  
“She doesn’t know our names. And we don’t know hers. Don’t just automatically bring that up.” George stated. I breathed in relief.  
“Oh, right. Where are my manners? I’m Anthony, but please, call me Lockwood. That’s George Cubbins, and the lad on the couch is Gaebel. He doesn’t talk much. We actually don’t know his name.” Lockwood said, gesturing to the boy hidden beneath the magazine. He lazily raised an arm in greeting. So, not sleeping, then. “We have another member, but she seems to be busy as of now. Such a shame.” He clicked his tongue, animatedly shaking his head as if it truly were the worst thing in the world. In all honesty, I was almost certain that was the case.  
“I’m Lucy Carlyle. What did you mean about me joining your group?” I asked, the curiosity bugging me to no end. He pursed his lips.  
“It’s similar to a Sector. But we just share Makeup artists, Managers, and Hairdressers. Occasionally we have joint shoots. It depends on what we all decide. So if you ever want to be excluded, just mention it to George.” He explained. Seemed easy enough.  
“Any catches?”  
“Not really. You have to deal with Gaebel whenever he decides to talk, which is the only issue. But he’s good at what he does.” Lockwood shrugged, then smiling faintly at me. His slender hand outstretched towards me as if striking a deal.

  
“So, Miss Carlyle, do we have a deal?”

  
“Sure. And call me Lucy.” I said, shaking his hand. He did most of the shaking, with far more zeal than I thought humanly possible.

  
“Will do, Lucy. Glad to be acquainted with you.” His words seemed genuine. It was shocking.  
“And you too.”

  
“Both of you stop being so horrifyingly formal. You’re making me lose my appetite, and these animal crackers are delicious.” George interjected.

  
“It’s a formality.” Lockwood sighed, looking down at the blond that was now sitting on the carpet. I managed to guess that Lockwood was the model. The other two seemed debatable.

 

  
And, for once, I was actually looking to do my job on my own terms for once.

 

To have my own opinion on what I could do.

 

  
To model.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

A work day in the Prodigy department was not as I had expected it to be. In the Fittes department everything is orderly. Schedules rarely mixed with one another there. Here, all hell breaks loose. I watched everyone run down the hall calling for their crew, and a little kid slide beneath a teenager’s legs to get to someone in confusion. Lockwood led me through with efficient skill, most parting out of his way. George was entertained by the chaos, Gaebel nowhere in sight. 

 

“Alright! Everybody remember, even if they’re walking slow, tripping them would only get you in trouble!” Lockwood said brightly. The pudgy manager at my side scoffed.

“If it works, it works,” I pointed out. The blond nodded in agreement.

“Agreed. In here it’s the only thing that’s effective. There’s only one person who could ever get away with it, though,” He said, staring straight ahead to the black head of hair that was talking excitedly with another model with a blank expression. 

“And that is. . .?” I began, cocking a brow.

“You’ll see,” He simply said, shrugging lazily. George’s expression remained unchanged as we walked through the halls, Lockwood talking with a new person at every turn. When we finally found our reserved room for photo shoots, George was exhausted. I felt slightly bad for him.

 

Gaebel was sitting on a chair in the large room, a backdrop near him. His spiked dark hair was in almost every direction, a mischievous grin plastered upon his face when he sought my face out. Behind him was a girl that was about twelve, bangs cut just barely above her brows, the orange hair traveling down her back. The left side of her hair was held back by a clipped on black bow. Her green eyes were curious upon finding me.

“That’s Ursula,” Lockwood said without glancing to me, as if he had known that I would be interested in learning who the hell this kid was. “She’s our makeup artist.”

“What?”

“Okay, why does  _ everyone _ have that reaction to me? We’re in the bloody  _ prodigy _ department, for Christ’s sake!” She complained. George snickered.

“That’s because you’re twelve. That just mean’s you’re unbelievably extraordinary,” A calm voice called from a closed door.

“Yeah, I know, but can’t they hide their shock? No one reacted the same way to Gaebel,” Ursula said, all but shoving me into her makeshift studio of a vanity mirror and pulling out a large makeup case.

“That’s because he’s weird,” The woman’s cheery voice said on the other side of the door, the lock turning. Her dark skin was ridden of any impurities, her frizzy dark brown hair going down her shoulders, lips in a grin, bright eyes smiling with her. She already had makeup applied to her, a bold red lipstick, sharp winged eyeliner, and copper eyeshadow. Gaebel’s lead lolled on his shoulders as he sighed, standing from his perch. The woman met my gaze in the mirror.

“Hello, you must be Lucy Carlyle. Lockwood informed me that you’ll be joining us. I’m Holly Munroe.” She introduced herself, the orange sundress she wore a simply elegant creation. I envied her beauty instantaneously. 

“Hi.” I spoke in short words, Ursula hitting my cheek to keep me from turning to face Holly. I had no idea what she was doing to my face at that moment. I was almost certain she was wiping me down with a disinfectant wipe. Gaebel was now working on Holly’s hair in silence, pins in his pouting mouth. I almost thought he was a kid when I had first witnessed his childish features. Learning that he was sixteen was an experience in itself. 

 

“Ursula, are my clothes in there?” Lockwood asked, hands in his pockets as he peered into the mirror. Her focused expression faltered for a split second as she glanced up to him. Then she curtly nodded, fishing around in her kit for a foundation that would match my skintone. With a chirped ‘Thanks!’ and a flip of his hair, Lockwood was gone.

 

“Hey, Holly, do you think she’s more of a natural style?” Ursula asked. My new co-worker hummed absently, staring intently at my reflection.

“I think so. Dramatic would work too.” She advised the little girl like a teacher, despite my knowledge that she was in fact a model like myself. Gaebel was already done with Holly’s hair, giving her a messy braid that fit her appearance and outfit perfectly. He stalked to my right, where the tiny makeup artist wasn’t standing.

“You look mad. I won’t hold it against you if you punch one of them in the face,” He murmured mischievously, a smirk across his lips. I was startled by how strangely deep his voice was. “Especially Munroe.”

“Thanks for the offer, but i’m fine. Punching someone on my first day is bound to create a bad impression.”

“Not for me,” He hinted. I was worried that this strange hairdresser would pull a Sweeney Todd on me once he began messing around with my short hair, Ursula getting frustrated with my makeup. Gaebel had given up at some point, deciding to braid one of my bangs and putting a headband behind them. He then went back to his chair and promptly took a nap.

 

“Wow. That was faster than I expected,” Lockwood commented once he emerged from the changing room, now wearing a vintage t-shirt that hung rather loose on him, jeans, and a bandanna tied around his right wrist. He was referring to the sleeping Gaebel, I knew. It was now my turn to change, Ursula demanding that I be careful. Of course that was after she had put on her finishing touches, leaned back commented, ‘Wow, you actually look beautiful with makeup on. I’m a wizard.’, and gave herself a high five.

 

I wanted to personally thank whoever was our fashion designer for not giving me anything that was hot pink pink nor frilly. I was given shorts, tennis shoes, a tank top, and a chain necklace. Lockwood and Holly’s clothes were discarded to a hanging rack on the right of the room, so I did the same with mine.

 

When I had finished getting dressed, I was greeted by a new face. Her sandy blonde hair was cropped extremely short and somewhat choppy. She wore a fancy pressed suit despite the fact she was wearing worn boots at the same time. The door closed behind me as her bubblegum popped.

“Finally. I’ve been waiting forever,” She sighed. “I contemplated kickin in the door on ‘ya.” I remembered George telling me about the one person who could get away with tripping someone in the halls. I assumed it was her.

“You weren’t waiting  _ that _ long, Flo.” Lockwood pointed out.

“Three minutes, actually,” George piped in. She stuck out her tongue to them, loudly chewing on her gum.

 

“You actually cut your hair,” Holly said in some sort of astonishment or horror.

“Obviously, Munroe. I kind of had gum stuck in it,” Flo said, one of her bangs that reached the bottom of her eye landing in her face. She blew it away.

“It suits you.” The compliment had this hard woman bashful for some strange reason. Maybe she wasn’t used to such things?

 

“Okay, rotten models, we have a shoot to do. The requirements are for you all to look like you’re enjoying yourselves,” Flo said as Holly flipped a large sun hat in her hands, deciding to place it on her head a second later. “Who volunteers to go first?”

“I say Lockwood.” George gave his input from the floor where he was typing on his computer.

“Alright, Locky it is. Go on up and show the newbie how it’s done.” She clicked her tongue, shoving his shoulders. He laughed, sauntering over to the backdrop. A camera was placed in front of it. I hadn’t noticed it before. No, wait. It was there recently. Flo must have brought it with her and set it up in the time I was absent.

 

“Technically, she isn’t new.” Lockwood pointed out, winking at me quickly. Ursula had given him some makeup, too. It took a minute for that factor to process. It was understandable, too. He was already attractive without any of his features amplified. But Ursula’s minor touches just made it ridiculously unfair. The same applied to Holly. 

“To me, fresh faces mean that they’re new.” Flo said dismissively as she peered into the camera, giving the male model in front of us a thumbs up. He was blank for a second, as if reciting the agency’s terms and agreements in one split second. But he quickly began posing, starting off with one hand in his pocket.

 

Lockwood was done before I could process what was happening, Holly fluttering up to the backdrop as he sauntered next to me, George now on my left.

“Flo, what happened to Niccolo? Wasn’t he supposed to be here today?” George asked curiously as Holly began posing

 

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, he was. Said somethin’ ‘bout a busy schedule and Vogue,” the blonde mumbled. Although, to me, it seemed more to herself than us.

 

“‘Said’? You surely didn’t forget that Nico’s deaf, right?” Lockwood chided with a small grin.

 

“He was texting me. Counts as talkin, right?”

 

“Of course, of course. Whatever you think,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. 

 

“Whose Niccolo?” I asked George, who clicked a pen boredly. Quite annoying, actually.

 

“Niccolo Vincent is a youth prodigy from the fashion sector. He makes all of the clothes you will now model. The same with them,” He explained in a flat voice. “But he can’t follow directions unless you sign them to him. That’s how he ended up here in the first place. His sister translates speech for him at meetings with other large companies, though”   
  


 

“So i’ll either see him later today or tomorrow.”

 

“Correct. Good thing, too, he’s got a . . .  _ colorful _ vocabulary in sign language,” Lockwood added.

  
  


Our shoot went swimmingly from then on. I had had minor difficulties (“Oh, stop being such a pain and sit your ass still”, Flo had said). Gaebel had made morbid suggestions on what we should do in our next photoshoot, Ursula either punching him in the shoulder or gagging. She had also made comments on his extremely spiky hair, but never asked to fix it for him. I suppose that conversation had occurred quite some time ago.

  
  


“Wait, you live in  _ that  _ apartment complex?” Holly asked, not trying to hide her shock. 

“Yes . . . ?” I slowly said, unsure on if she was judging me or not. We were standing in front of my apartment complex, George and Lockwood having parted to their own shared home with Gaebel long ago.

“Lucy, we live here. Our entire group. How the bloody hell have we never run into each other?” She said excitedly as we walked into the lobby.

 

“I try to avoid most people when I leave for work. Take the back exit, actually.”

  
  


“Oh. Well, still, I’ll have to visit you sometime!”

“Don’t count on it.”


End file.
